


The Waking Hours

by Jaina (effervescible)



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:32:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8233016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/effervescible/pseuds/Jaina
Summary: Every time Elena fades back into consciousness lying on the bridge to Shambhala, she's surprised that it happens at all.





	

Every time Elena fades back into consciousness lying on the bridge to Shambhala, she's surprised that it happens at all. Not terribly distressed, though, because she doesn't have the capacity to feel very much except pain, and exhaustion is doing its best to provide strong competition to that.

But Chloe is there with her, alternately encouraging and admonishing her, because the pain is awful but giving in to exhaustion means she might never feel anything again, ever, so Elena tries her best to stay awake. If she'd been on the outside of this, she might also have felt surprised that Chloe has the capacity for this kind of support, but she's just too tired for anything else.

She's already slipping away again when the shouting starts, voices echoing as if they're coming from far away even though they can't be, but comes to enough to move her feet when whatever caused the shouting is done and Nate and Chloe get her upright again. Everything's moving in slow motion, or maybe only she is, because she stops being able to understand what they're saying and can't do anything but whimper at the shift in position when Nate scoops her up to carry her. It hurts, oh  _ god _ does it hurt, and it's nothing like she ever imagined on those rare occasions she let herself daydream about Nate holding her again.

There's no time to think more on that, because the next wave of exhaustion that comes over her is too strong to fight, and this time Elena doesn't come back from it.

The next time she opens her eyes, she has no sense of how much time has passed, although waking up feels akin to climbing up from the bottom of a deep, dark well. Despite the fact that both her eyelids and her limbs feel like they've been weighted down with iron, it's a little easier to keep from passing out this time, and she takes the opportunity to view as much of her surroundings as possible from her supine position.

She's in bed, inside a small, simple room that looks familiar, though the fog in her head won't allow her to immediately figure out why. There's a blanket drawn up to her chest and her arms rest on top of the covers. While she can't see much of what she's wearing, she feels less grimy than one would expect while wearing a shrapnel-torn, bloody shirt, and there's the sensation of something tightly wrapped around much of her torso. Bandages?

The pain is still there, though. Elena figures that out quickly when she tenses her muscles to try and sit up and they protest violently. She only lets out a small cry of pain, but that's loud enough in the quiet room, and that's when she realizes she isn't alone.

"Easy there, sunshine." In her peripheral vision, she sees the shape of someone who'd apparently been lounging in a chair to her left leans forward. It's Chloe, of all people, and the expression on her face is something like relief. "Don't want to open those wounds back up. Just rest."

"Is—" The sound that comes out of Elena's mouth is more a croak than a word, so she swallows and tries again. "Is Nate—"

"Hold on." Chloe reaches for something outside her range of vision, and there's the sound of liquid pouring before she returns with a cup. "Here's some water. Careful."

Even with assistance, there's no real hope for taking a drink and not spilling it on herself from this angle, but she doesn't care. She swallows greedily, only sputtering a little, and immediately she feels better able to talk, though even this small action has depleted what energy reserves she has.

"Is Nate all right?" she whispers, eyelids drooping again. Dammit. "Did we all make it out okay?"

"Nate's fine," Chloe says. "He's been here for days. Wouldn't leave. He's out taking a piss now."

That would be enough to make her fall back onto the mattress in relief, except that the Herculean task of sipping some water with assistance has used up nearly all of her energy reserves, and she's not even close to being able to sit up. Good. That's good. No one else has died because of her.

"Chloe?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

The long silence that follows makes Elena think she'd whispered too quietly to be heard, but then Chloe nods. "No problem, Elena."

She speaks again a moment later, saying something about Nate and how he'll be right back or she can go get him, but Elena's already falling asleep again. If Nate does come right back, she's entirely unaware of it.

It's a little easier to open her eyes the next time she wakes up, even though she only really feels halfway there. It's still not Nate sitting by her bedside, and she's doubly surprised because as far as she knows, this person shouldn't even be in Tibet.

"Sully?"

"Hey there, sleeping beauty." It's been a while since she's seen it, but his crooked grin is wide and easy as always, and she automatically relaxes, because if Sully can smile, things must not be too bad. "Welcome back."

She starts to smile in return, then squints. "Are you  _ smoking _ ?"

That actually prompts an embarrassed expression, which is something she can't remember ever seeing on Sully's face. "It's not lit," he says, and removes his cigar from the corner of his mouth and tucks it into his shirtfront pocket. "Sort of comforting, that's all. You made a lot of people real worried, kiddo."

"Sorry," she says, and swallows. Her throat isn't as dry now, which is good, because she has no intention of staying quiet. There's too much to talk about. "How long has it been?"

"About a day since I got here," he says. "Little longer since Nate blew everything up, or whatever it is he did."

Even with her mind not at its sharpest, Elena can make those calculations. Even if Sully came as soon as he heard, Tibet is a long way from anywhere he was likely to be. She's been out for days.

She shifts in place, testing her readiness to sit up, and immediately hisses in pain. It's better than before, when the wounds were fresh and she thought she was bleeding her life away, but 'better' is on a relative scale and it's a long way from 'good.' Sully's instantly by her side, a gentle hand on her shoulder and stark concern plastered on his face in a way that she would find touching if she were able to do anything more than regret the move she just made. She allows herself to be guided back down to the bed, or would if she'd made it more than half an inch in the direction of upright.

"Hey, don't try that just yet. You're going to give me a heart attack." He splays his hand across his chest and the mock-'old man with a heart condition' gesture should make her chuckle. It doesn't.

"Sorry. Again," she says, and doesn't swipe at the frustrated tears that she won't allow to fall. What's stupider, the fact that she immediately tried sitting up with unhealed shrapnel wounds in her torso or the fact that she's upset she couldn't make it? It's a toss-up. "I guess I'm stuck here for a while."

"Yeah, probably." He puts his hand to the pocketed cigar but doesn't take it out, just fiddles with the end where it is. "Don't push yourself. It  _ is _ all right to kick back for a while after something like that."

"I know, I just…." She makes a grasping gesture with her right hand, then drops it back to the bed. "I hate this. It should never have happened."

She should never have gotten so close to Flynn. Never tried to help a man who was so bitter about the consequences of his own choices that he tried to take them all with him when he died. Hell, she should have pulled out her gun and shot him as soon as he stepped out from behind a pillar.

Oh, who is she kidding? She could never do that. And she can't regret offering him aid, even if she sorely regrets not doing so from a distance.

"A lot of things shouldn't have happened, sweetheart." Sully smiles and pats her hand. "But you're still here and kicking. That's the important part. And don't tell Nate I said this, but you can probably order him around until you're recovered and then some. Take it from me, he's not much of a Florence Nightingale, but he's useful for getting things when you're on bedrest.

That does prompt a shaky chuckle, and she wonders what the story is behind his assurance, because one definitely exists. "I'll keep that in mind. Is he...here? Around?"

It's not that she expects him to be glued to her bedside until he sees for himself that she's awake and okay, it's  _ not _ , but even with the hazily-remembered assurance from Chloe, Elena's not going to completely relax until she's the one who's got proof that he's fine too. And maybe she just wants to see him.

"He's getting food. The little girl made a sad face at him until he came with her." Sully rolls his eyes. "Said he was going to bring it back, though. Shouldn't be more than another ten minutes." Ten minutes...it's a short time, really, but she's still so heavy and tired. Ugh. "Think you can stay awake until then?" he adds, apparently noticing the yawn she tries to stifle.

Elena shakes her head and gives him a rueful smile. "But I can try."

She does try. But her body has its own ideas, and she's already falling asleep when she thinks she hears the door opening again.

The third time she wakes up, it's because she's been awakened. Tenzin's hands are gentle but confident as he changes her bandages and checks on her wounds, and they have a quiet and straightforward discussion about her injuries. His bedside manner is good enough that she only feels a little awkward about being practically naked in front of someone she barely knows. He doesn't try to be overly reassuring, but he had been honest about Nate's prospects when he'd been the one injured and unconscious, and she trusts him to be the same now. All things considered, it leaves her feeling rather relieved.

There's no talk of Nate before he tucks her in again like the father he is, and maybe that's the trick, because the next time she wakes up she  _ finally _ sees Nate's face. It's slack, his eyes closed, because he's the one sleeping this time, slumped to the side in a chair beside her bed. Instead of calling for him, Elena just watches him for a while, a faint smile on her face. He probably needs the rest as much as she does.

All the sleep she's been getting must have done something, because nearly twenty minutes pass and she doesn't feel like passing out again. Eventually, Nate's eyelids start to flutter and he seemingly reflexively turns to her before realization strikes and his eyes go wide. "Elena?"

"Hey, Nate." She smiles wider and tries not to laugh at the way he sits upright so fast that he rocks his chair.

"Jesus, finally!" He must realize what he said, because his expression goes a little sheepish. "Sorry, I didn't—it's just that I kept missing you, I'd come back and someone would tell me I just missed you being awake. And I hardly left, I swear. I've been here the whole time."

"I know." And somehow, she does. Maybe it's because of some subconscious, unconscious recognition of his presence, or maybe it's because she had done the same for him, kept vigil during just about all the time he'd lain unconscious only to miss his awakening. "It's okay, Nate."

He scoots his chair closer, eyes still wide and anxious. "How do you feel? Are you in pain? Can I get you anything?"

"I've been better, but all things considered, it's a big improvement from how I remember feeling before passing out." She squints up at him. "Actually, could you get me an extra pillow or two so I don't have to stare up at you from flat on my back? You're kind of looming."

It's not really his fault. Even while sitting down, Nate is still stupidly tall compared to her, something that seems to surprise him, judging from the look on his face. He hesitates, but then nods.

"Sure. Just give me a sec."

He grabs a couple pillows from somewhere out of sight and, with what Elena considers to be a little more gingerness than is warranted, eases them under her back. The movement hurts, but not as much as she expects it too. Once that's down, she's not completely sitting up, but it's an improvement.

"So," she says once she's re-settled. "You did it, huh? Stopped Lazarevic, saved the world from an invincible warmonger..."

"Oh, yeah," he says after a second, as if he'd forgotten all that happened. "Yeah, I made it out in one piece. A bruised and battered piece, but still just one. And nobody's going to be going after the Tree of Life again." Before she can ask what exactly that means, he's already moving on. "Do you remember any of that? Chloe looking after you, escaping from Shambhala?"

"A little." Her eyes cloud over as she recalls half-formed memories from drifting in and out of consciousness. "I remember explosions in the distance, and pain. And I remembering you carrying me out of there. After that...nothing."

Nate can't hide the troubled look on his face, but he rallies well, giving the back of her hand a little pat. "You didn't miss much. Pretty much the same stuff we saw on the way in, except about to crumble into rubble."

Elena scowls at that, and judging by the aghast expression that prompts in turn, it's either a really good scowl or Nate's just feeling a little sensitive. "Oh come on," she says. "I can't believe you rushed me out of that. You know how much I like cool crumbling rubble."

He's caught somewhere between surprise and confusion, and then the corners of his mouth turn upward and they both laugh. And for maybe the first time since she woke up, she feels like it's really going to be okay.

"So what next?" she asks. "You found the Cintamani Stone, but you didn't get rich from the treasure. Gonna go looking for the next big score?"

"The next big score can wait." He shrugs, looking utterly unconcerned with the loss of hypothetical untold riches, and she isn't surprised. He might be a thief and a treasure hunter, but the treasure had never mattered as much as the hunting part. It's one of the things she liked so much about him. "Figured I'd stick around here for a while, wait for you to heal up. Wait for  _ me _ to heal up—after all that running around, my newest gunshot wound is letting me know real clearly that it wants me to rest."

Rest. Ha. She would put money on that lasting all of a week or two.

"Which I can probably manage for a couple weeks," he continues. "Until then...I dunno. I haven't thought that far ahead." He shrugs and rests his hand on the bed, and she can't help but wonder if it's on purpose that it's brushing against her fingers.

She glances to the side and tries not to sound  _ too _ casual. "Is Chloe going to stick around too?"

"Dunno." He shrugs. "Probably for a little while. She hasn't said. Why?"

"I wanted to thank her again for helping to save my life," she says, and this is only partial bullshit. She does. But that isn't why she asked. "And I thought maybe that after teaming up with us to stop Lazarevic, the two of you might…"

She makes a little crossed-fingers gesture and it takes Nate a second to get it.

"Oh, no. No, no, no." He sounds a little  _ too _ emphatic. "Her and me, that was done back in the city, but we'll still be friends, or something. Wasn't that serious anyway. "

Her smile is a little wistful. "Is it ever?"

It's not meant to be a challenge or something he should seriously answer. It hadn't been serious between them, and that was why she'd ended it, even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. Better to call it off then before his grip on her heart got even stronger and it hurt more to face the fact that they wanted different things.

But his expression goes all solemn then, and when his fingertips slip over hers, it's not an accident. "Sometimes," he says.

They both go quiet then, just _ looking _ at each other like a pair of dopes, only blinking when she edges her hand forward, lacing their fingers together.

"I'll try to heal faster so you don't get too bored," she says, for lack of anything else to say. Because she's not sure she can say what's on her mind, what's been lurking in the back of it since they first escaped Flynn and hid behind a crumbling wall and he shielded her like she was something precious. She's been thinking about it between gunfights and other bouts of danger, and the only explanation that makes sense is that Nate still feels something for her. Which is good, because she still feels something for him, too. She feels a lot. Elena had broken up with him and moved on with her life, but apparently not far enough.

"Take as long as you like," he says, interrupting her thoughts with a little chuckle, and then his face goes serious again. "I'm sorry you got involved in all this, but I'm really glad I ran into you again." With his free hand, he tucks a stray bit of hair back behind her ear, and something in Elena's chest aches at how intimate the gesture is.

"Me too," she says quietly, hand squeezing his, and then there's a moment where time seems to freeze and Elena  _ knows _ he's going to kiss her. Then he leans forward and he does, and she's kissing him back, and it could be a year ago, the two of them just like they used to be.

Her lips are pretty dry, and her mouth still feels kind of gross after days in bed. It's not their best kiss ever. But it lasts and it lingers, and when Nate pulls back, they're both smiling like they can't help it.

And then she yawns. So much for the moment.

Nate snickers, and she swats his arm. "Shut up," she says, but it's hard to sound too chiding when giggles are threatening to break through.

"Sorry, sorry." He spreads his hands in an apologetic gesture, though the grin on his face doesn't look all that repentant. "It's just that I didn't think it was  _ that _ bad."

"It wasn't." She smiles. "God, I shouldn't still be tired. All I've been doing is sleeping!"

"It's only been a few days since you nearly got blown up," he pointed out. "Sleeping is good. You should probably sleep more."

"Easy for you to say," she grumbled. "And kinda hypocritical. You were running around ice caves and fighting an army the same day you woke up from getting shot."

"That was different," he points out, accurately. "I didn't have the luxury of a lengthy recovery. You've got all the time in the world." She gives him an exasperated look, which he matches with one of amusement. "Come on. I'll still be here when you wake up. Promise this time."

He sort of wriggles in place for, as far as she can tell, the express purpose of re-planting his ass firmly in his chair, and Elena has to laugh. He's always been good at making her do that, and it's not something time has changed.

"All right, all right." She settles back into the pillows, although to be honest, it's hard get more relaxed than she already is, being in a sickbed and all. She reminds herself that it won't be forever, that she'll get better and that Nate  _ will _ be here the next time she's awake.

And maybe he'll be here a lot longer than that.

"I'm going to sleep for a  _ little _ while," she says, closing her eyes. "Happy now?"

"Very."

She hears the soft sounds of him settling further into his chair and of his breathing, and Elena thinks it might not be so hard to fall asleep again. They make good white noise, like a tuneless lullaby if she wants to get really sentimental about it. For the first time in weeks, she feels safe.

"Just don't snore."

And mildly annoyed. Another familiar feeling.

"Nate!"

**Author's Note:**

> Uncharted 4 gave me a hundred ideas for fic, so obviously I had to start back at Uncharted 2. Also, because their smooch at the end of the game really didn't seem like a surprise to either of them, so thought something might have come before it.


End file.
